


Purpose

by sekaiseifuku



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekaiseifuku/pseuds/sekaiseifuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gojyo discovers his place in the scheme of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purpose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jedishampoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedishampoo/gifts).



> Written for jedishampoo as a part of the valentine_smut gift exchange.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to the lovely, gorgeous genkisakka , who is a wonderful and amazing beta! Still, I made very significant revisions after she saw it last, so all mistakes are mine!

Gojyo had always known that he was nothing special.

He didn’t have any powers to speak of – no sutra or Qigong or invincible supernatural form. He had little ambition, negligible discretion and zero regard for the conventions of society at large. He would, on occasion, admit to being good in a fight, damned fine with the ladies, and in possession of one hell of a talent for finding himself in situations that were fucked-up beyond all belief. He would also be quick to mention that none of this made him anything remotely extraordinary.

In the beginning, there was no reason Gojyo could possibly have thought of to explain why the Three Aspects had insisted he go on what had shaped up to be one hell of a crazy ass joyride. He understood why they had given Sanzo the illustrious task; it was a journey that no ordinary man could have survived and Sanzo, with his ascetic training, depthless well of suspicion and quick trigger finger, was no ordinary man. And of course, there was nowhere Sanzo went that Goku did not follow.

Hakkai also made sense. He was still, in essence, Sanzo’s responsibility and in addition to being one scary motherfucker when he had to be, served as equal part healer, wife and chauffeur. He was useful and Sanzo appreciated usefulness, even if he would never admit it.

Gojyo, on the other hand, had no ties to Sanzo and was pretty well convinced that he’d never be good for much more than kicking youkai ass, pounding back more booze than was good for him, and chasing tail.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

Gojyo wasn’t the kind of person who tried to hide much of anything, and he was pretty sure Sanzo knew that he would be up for a fuck just about from day one. Gojyo didn’t say anything, of course, because he knew that would be the fastest way to piss the ever-loving shit out of His Holiness and guarantee that he’d never get a piece of that action.

Not that he expected to.

Gojyo knew that there were a fair number of people who would just about sell their souls for one night with Sanzo. He also he knew that Sanzo was painfully aware of this. Hell, they couldn’t really call it a night if Sanzo didn’t get propositioned at least once by some local drunken dickface. Sanzo had never shown even the slightest bit of interest in anyone – male or female – and Gojyo figured letting Sanzo know that he topped Gojyo’s “highly fuckable” list would not only be a waste of time, but would very likely result in serious bodily injury. Still, there was something about the contradictory combination of devastating beauty and gut-wrenching danger that drew Gojyo in like a fucking moth to a flame. It was the kind of attraction that was simultaneously exhilarating and stomach-churning, and Gojyo had better sense than to do anything more than sneak furtive looks when he thought Sanzo wasn’t paying attention. Because really, he liked his balls intact.

Despite his title, sutra and mandate from the Three Aspects, Sanzo wasn’t exactly the model of Buddhist virtue, whatever the fuck that might be. He killed without discretion, drank, smoked, and treated everyone – human, youkai and everything in between – as if they were so far beneath him he couldn’t even deign to acknowledge their existence. To be perfectly honest, Sanzo was a pretty shitty guy and Gojyo, unlike the rest of the world, didn’t expect Sanzo to be anything more than a Grade A asshole. And as Gojyo had recently discovered, this attitude was another item on the very short list of things that Genjyo Sanzo appreciated.

One night at seedy bar in a no-name village, long after Hakkai and Goku had turned in for the evening, Gojyo found himself in the middle of a rather inspired monologue detailing Sanzo’s multitude of faults. He was trying to goad him into a fight, of course, but for some reason, Sanzo wasn’t rising to the bait. Instead, he just sat there, something approximating a thoughtful expression on his face.

Sanzo tossed back the last of a warm, rancid beer and looked Gojyo straight in the eye. “Upstairs. Now.”

And there was something about the way he said it that made Gojyo sure he wasn’t suggesting a game of cards. Gojyo was just drunk enough that he didn’t brush it off as a joke, and he didn’t tell Sanzo to go fuck himself. He instead found himself following Sanzo with an enthusiasm that really should have been embarrassing.

Thirty minutes later, with the taste of Sanzo’s come in his mouth and his own smeared and drying across Sanzo’s chest, Gojyo found himself agreeing wholeheartedly to Sanzo’s shockingly calm suggestion that they come to an understanding about future encounters. Gojyo didn’t care about the details; he’d gotten just enough of Sanzo to know that he’d take whatever he could, whenever and however he could get it.

In the beginning, he was pretty damned skittish about the whole arrangement, never knowing how far he could take things – how far would be far enough to earn him a bullet between the eyes. At first it was quick and dirty: hand jobs in the bath, and, when there was enough privacy, Gojyo would give a repeat performance of that first night and attempt to suck Sanzo’s balls dry.

A couple weeks into what Gojyo had come to mentally refer to as “this crazy, fucked-up Sanzo-thing,” just as he was about to fall to his knees and engage in what was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes, Sanzo grabbed him by the hair.

“Enough of that. I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

Gojyo was happy to comply. And oh, by the gods and goddesses above, it was everything he had hoped it would be. Sanzo was responsive, and violent, and _loud_. As Gojyo fucked him, he’d been pretty damned clear about what Gojyo had been doing right and what he had not. Gojyo’d never thought that that ever-present scowl could get him hotter than he’d ever been in his whole fucking life, but there was something about seeing shades of lust, expectation and scorn fleet across Sanzo’s face that made him go absolutely crazy. He used Sanzo pretty hard that night: harder than he had planned and certainly harder than he should have. But seeing the bruises from his hands blossoming on Sanzo’s arms and the sated look on his face, Gojyo wasn’t able to muster up much regret.

Their subsequent encounters became increasingly violent. Sanzo would always start in on him, talking shit about Gojyo’s stamina or technique. Hell, he even made smart-ass remarks about Gojyo’s dick, which was taking it too fucking far. Of course, Gojyo would always take the bait, giving it to him harder, or faster, or more forcefully – whatever Sanzo said he wasn’t giving him, he made damned sure to give him that much more.

It didn’t take Gojyo long to realize that he was being masterfully manipulated; Sanzo was playing him like a goddamned violin, taunting and goading him into pushing things further and further. He pissed Gojyo off like nothing else, and there were times when the urge to do something to shut Sanzo the fuck up was almost too much to resist.

Eventually, Gojyo snapped. As Sanzo was mouthing off about some kind of bullshit, Gojyo got so pissed that he pinned Sanzo down, grabbed the nearest piece of cloth – his own headband – and shoved it deep in the priest’s mouth. The outrage on Sanzo’s face was magnificent, and Gojyo took advantage of that instant of shock to grab Sanzo’s sash and improvise a quick and dirty wrist binding.

Gojyo didn’t know how long he fucked Sanzo that night, his arms tied above his head and face shoved against the mattress. It was long enough and hard enough that his own muscles were screaming from the exertion and his balls felt like they would explode. After he shot his load all over Sanzo’s back and hair – and holy fuck, what a sight that was – Gojyo untied Sanzo’s hands and braced himself for the ass beating that he knew would follow. He was shocked into silence when Sanzo rolled quietly over, a dazed, almost blissful expression on his face.

Things changed between them after that.

Never, not in a million, billion years, would Gojyo have ever thought that Genjyo Sanzo, the 31st of China would be down with being tied up. It’s something that never would have crossed his mind, not even during a late-night, beer-fueled wank session. But in the weeks that followed, Gojyo had quickly learned that not only was Sanzo not opposed to the idea, he was into it.

 _Really fucking_ into it.

Contrary to expectation, Gojyo didn’t have a lot of experience with this kind of shit, but he had one hell of an imagination and his time with Sanzo had fucking blown his mind. Sanzo never openly expressed a single desire, but Gojyo became adept at reading between the scowls, insults and threats.

Every piece of control he wrested from Sanzo was a battle. There were punches, cuts, broken furniture and symphonies of obscenities. More than one time, Hakkai or the proprietor of the inn or both had come banging on the door to see if they were killing each other. There were times when Gojyo thought they might be taking things too far, but there was always that point when Sanzo would relax into it and give up control. And somehow, Gojyo knew exactly what to do.

Gojyo had come to realize that what Sanzo needed, perhaps more than anything, was to _let go_. He needed a time, however brief, when he didn’t have to shoulder responsibility for an all-powerful monkey, a mass murderer, a no-good halfbreed and the fate of the entire fucking world.

Sanzo needed to let go, just for a little bit. And Gojyo helped him do that for a while.

And then, Sanzo ran off.

~*~

The last few weeks on the road had been hell. Gojyo had thought it was bad without Sanzo, but it was infinitely worse with him back. To say that things had been somewhat tense would have been the grossest of understatements. After they’d drug themselves to civilization, healed, and got over the euphoria of having survived the clusterfuck Ukoku had perpetrated upon them, it had become pretty fucking obvious that not everything was fine and dandy with the Sanzo-ikkou.

Goku refused to let Sanzo out of his sight, following him around with the most pathetic look in the history of the world on his face. The kid may have been annoying as hell, but Gojyo hated seeing him looking like a fucking kicked puppy, and the way Sanzo was treating him didn’t help in the least. And Goku was so happy to have Sanzo back that he just took it.

Hakkai, in true passive aggressive manner, was engaged in expressing his displeasure in a myriad of shitty little ways – things like preparing only three cups of coffee in the morning (“Oh dear, I just got so used to making only three …”) and buying only enough booze for one (“As you can imagine, without the gold card we had to learn to make do with less…”). The more Sanzo tried to ignore it, the pettier Hakkai got. And Hakkai could get pretty fucking petty.

Compounding this, Sanzo himself had been in the worst mood Gojyo had ever seen. And considering Sanzo’s character in general, that was saying a whole fucking lot. He was sullen, broody, even shorter tempered than usual, and had actually shot Gojyo three times that week – _shot_ , not grazed. He was even firing at Hakkai, which was completely out of line.

All of this was adding up to a whole hell of a lot of uncomfortable, tension-filled silence surrounding the four of them, and Gojyo didn’t like it. Something was going to have to give and he knew what that was going to have to be. Before Sanzo had pulled his turn-and-run trick, Gojyo had become someone of an expert in reading the priest, and he could see something that Sanzo would never admit to anyone, especially not to himself.

Sanzo was feeling guilty. Not small, fleeting guilt, but enormous, soul-crushing, ultimate betrayal guilt. And Gojyo knew that Sanzo would never be able to deal with that guilt on his own.

As they pulled into another shitty inn in another no-name village in the middle of fucking nowhere, Gojyo grabbed Sanzo by the arm and pulled him aside.

“You’re with me tonight, Sanzo-sama.” He drew out the honorific, knowing how much it pissed Sanzo off.

Sanzo jerked his arm, but Gojyo only tightened his grip. He wanted to see the bruises later.

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” He pulled Sanzo close enough to feel the outline of his thigh against his own. “You are going in there and finding us a room with a bed and thick-ass walls, because tonight I'm gonna give you exactly what you fucking deserve. And you don’t have any say in it. You’re not going to say a fucking word.”

Gojyo listened to the sharp intake of breath as he watched Sanzo’s pupils dilate and felt his body still.

 _There. Just like that._

That night, Gojyo wasn’t going to battle for control. Sanzo would give it to him willingly, and that would be how he would begin to pay his penance.

Gojyo really wasn’t anything special. He was no fucking hero and he knew that his role in the grand scheme of things was supplementary at best. But he realized now that he might just know why he had gotten caught up in this whole crazy mess. He may have been a fucked-up, half-breed loser but as it turned out, he had something that Sanzo needed. And perhaps, that was the only thing that made it possible for Sanzo to hold his shit together day after day as the world crumbled to ruin around them. 

Gojyo wasn’t Sanzo’s master and he certainly wasn’t his lover; he was just a guy Sanzo trusted enough to let tie him up and fuck him into oblivion.

And Gojyo knew that was nothing to take lightly.  



End file.
